


Out of the Rain

by purplekitte



Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors, Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Comfort Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Sibling Incest, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 22:28:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1242865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplekitte/pseuds/purplekitte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perturabo is having a bad compliance, like every compliance is, and Russ invites him to eat and ‘share his bed’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Original tumblr post here: http://adepta-astarte.tumblr.com/post/77432965143/based-on-the-conversation-we-were-having-this

The compliance was bad, but it was typical of what was asked of the IVth and at least it was uncomplicated, Perturabo thought. The rain hadn’t stopped in weeks, everything was coated in mud laced with the acids the xenos used to make their huge hives, the xenos kept coming upon them from beneath and disappearing through tunnels that dissolved into mud-pits around anyone who tried to pursue, but there was nothing beautiful about the spires--like termite mounds--or their six-legged chitinous forms.

For a moment he amused himself with the thought of Fulgrim--beautiful, perfectly-primped Fulgrim--bogged down in the mud, but of course that sort of thing never happened to the likes of him. Perturabo should feel lucky some of the VIth nearby had been sent over and forced to descend to his level.

He didn’t much care how they were doing, but he imagined badly and they would be complaining about it constantly. They liked charging in with the idea they could break everything in their path if they were furious enough, from what he’d heard. Which was all well and good for a wolf among penned sheep, but not for mud that absorbed kinetic impact and lasers’ heat and ate through power-armour. The rain itself was leaving pits burned in his vehicles.

Perturabo left Forrix to deal with the Wolves’ whining, but when his First Captain brought a message to him, he knew, to his annoyance, he’d have to deal with it. The warsmith was competent, thorough, and very aware of protocol, so if he said a matter must be answered by his primarch personally, it would be so.

He scanned the missive from his brother himself and saw the problem. No matter how much Forrix might anticipate Perturabo’s likely response to Russ’ disrespect and insinuations and wish to spare him the trouble, it wouldn’t be proper.

‘Tell him I’ll see him.’

‘My lord?’

‘I’m sure you already have written up a note expressing my refusal in the strongest terms for me to sign, and that was correct of you, but my desire to punch Russ in the face personally is too strong. Hopefully he will be so thoroughly dissuaded we will not need to have this conversation again.’

Forrix quickly clamped down on the look of growing comprehension on his face, and replied. ‘Of course. I’ll send your reply right away, my lord.’

*

Russ’ diet contained an unhealthy amount of fatty meat, Perturabo noted absently, not that it actually mattered for a primarch. Whatever he was drinking, and trying to get his brother to drink, had about the corrosive properties of the local xeno saliva.

On one hand, Russ’ food was more appetizing than standard rations, but less efficient. If his brother had just offered to eat with him, that would have been a simple social nicety and they could both tolerate each other, whatever Perturabo had heard about Russ from Magnus and whatever anyone thought of him, and go their separate ways feeling they’d done what they were obligated to.

Perturabo much preferred to steer things that way. It was less trouble. Whatever Russ lacked in personality, at least Perturabo was making an effort.

‘I’ll take my leave. If your men take the northern fields while we’re still in the warrens, you would do the most good sweeping the outlying settlements.’

‘You’re angry.’ Russ was staring too closely and his nostrils flared with whatever he was sniffing.

‘Do you think I’m easy? Some desperate, fawning follower of yours who would be grateful at the chance to share the mighty Wolf King’s bed? What did you expect?’

Russ moved, not fast, not aggressive, but closer. He sniffed at Perturabo openly, but with a certain amount of deliberate distance and care to not close that distance. What Russ was thinking Perturabo didn’t know. He wasn’t playing the boisterous drunk so much as he was closed off, thoughtful.

‘That’s not what I meant.’ He moved closer, but slowly, incrementally, like easing towards a wild animal. ‘I meant to occur comfort, not hurt. When I invited you to sleep with me, I meant sleep. I wouldn’t turn you away if you wanted to come to my bed as a lover, but I’ve no intention pushing you into anything you find distasteful, just a normal bedding down against the storm.’

That was not normal. Normal people didn’t sleep in puppy-piles or whatever Russ did. They were so close he could feel Russ’ breath on his face.

‘Your hospitality is noted, but I must...’ His brother pressed their foreheads together, just that, one of the few gestures one could make in power-armour, ‘decline to...’ Why must Russ make it so difficult to string one word after another. ‘Your breath stinks.’

Russ laughed and slung an arm around the bulky shoulder of his armour. ‘Come on, brother. Don’t go back out there just yet.’

That was the temptation. To lock himself away and never go back out to the galaxy the way it was. So easy to let Russ lead him to his bed where he could almost not hear the rain and undo the seals of his armour.

True to his word, Russ was professional rather than lascivious, no more forward than the Legion serfs who helped them disarm.

He had nothing to be embarrassed of, but stripping entirely naked in front of Russ’ steady gaze was something he was glad not to do, and Russ stopped after stripping off the shirt he wore under his armour, though Perturabo did not image he usually slept any way but bare.

Perturabo had meant to maintain distance between them, Russ’ bed was certainly large enough, however one was supposed to behave during sleepovers. Russ had other ideas, which had more to do with building a nest of blankets and furs to keep every drop of heat within with the efficiency of an iceworlder. Then he wrapped his arms around Perturabo and squeezed tightly like he was the one greedy for touch and warmth.

If Russ was the one who wanted it, he could indulge him. That would be alright. He didn’t have to touch or do anything stupid, and if he was relaxing in his arms it was merely giving Russ what he wanted. If he kept still, he could keep himself from twitching or shivering at how strange it felt when Russ nuzzled the back of his neck or stroked his arms and sides. If he kept his breathing even and let himself be lulled into sleep, he didn’t have to think about how warm Russ was, how soft he was with fat and fur, definitely fur, over corded muscle.

*

Morning found Perturabo still being cuddled by his brother. Forrix would have gotten all the wrong idea by now, but at least he didn’t gossip. Not that Perturabo’s rather uncomfortable erection hadn’t also gotten the wrong idea.

He willed his hormones down, hoping Russ was asleep and would remain that way indefinitely. If wishes were fishes, he might as well hope Russ had also gone nose-dead while he was at it.

The other primarch nuzzled his head and the back of his neck sleepily, but didn’t make a move further. He had to know. Well, he had just wanted to sleep with him. Perturabo had been the one presuming too much and Russ had had to placate him. He wasn’t really interested in...

‘Why are you unhappy again?’

‘Why do you say that?’

Russ snorted and he could feel it on his skin. ‘Your scent changed.’

‘Ignore that too.’ Perturabo moved to extract himself at the best angle he could find to not end up in a tangle of limbs as he worked his way out of the layers of the cocoon. It would be so easy to manage all sorts of excess touches that would seem accidental or unavoidable.

Russ reached after him, a hand on his arm he could have pulled away from but a face pressed between his shoulders he had more trouble with. ‘Yesterday you said you didn’t want me. I wasn’t about to take advantage because you’d been sleeping too deeply.’

Perturabo couldn’t move. He couldn’t think of a thing to say as he pulled away, he’d already given away too much, nor what he could possible say to Russ otherwise.

It was Russ who ended the long, awkward silence and stillness. Russ who smiled against Perturabo’s back like he’d just figured out something wonderful, and threw his entire bodyweight behind wrestling his immobile brother back to the bed. His mouth descended on his, hot and hungry and not in the least bit tentative, and Perturabo couldn’t have breathed even if not for the obvious logistic difficulties.

‘Oh, laddie, I’m going to make you feel so good, just you wait.’ Russ’ beard was scratchy against his face and his wandered hands were moving straight down his chest and abdomen to press firmly against the bulge of his erection while getting his trousers undone. Perturabo was not going to whimper, he wasn’t, but he couldn’t help but arch into the touch, especially as Russ got calloused fingers directly against his aching skin. ‘You taste so good. I’m going to taste you everywhere.’

Then Russ had lips and tongue and teeth on his neck and shoulders, hand moving between his legs as he pressed up against his back and rubbed himself against him.

‘Damn it.’ Perturabo could hardly recognise the breathless, choked voice as his own. ‘Leman, I’m going to...’

‘Good.’ The hand around his cock moved faster as he licked the sweat beading on his chest from the heat of their bodies magnified by the nest around them. Russ stroked a thumb down his length, teasing the tip, and Perturabo couldn’t help but come in his grip. ‘There you go.’

As if he hadn’t been barely conscious with the shocks of his orgasm still going through him, there was the sight of Russ lowering him to the bed entirely and leaning down to lick the streaks of come from his stomach. He buried his hands in Russ’ hair, and those thick braids did make a very good handhold when he stomach was fluttering under the broad, wet strokes of his tongue. He finally groaned aloud as Russ lapped at his over-sensitive cock.

‘That’s what I like to hear. Just wait ‘til I’m inside of you.’ Perturabo didn’t mean to moan at that, but he did. Russ smiled even broader, and nuzzled his balls.

‘I’ve never, exactly...’ Not with another person at least.

Russ didn’t show surprise, nor did he express the level of condescending contempt Perturabo had worried about. ‘I want to feel you feel good. I’ll have you bucking up against me for more.’

Russ’ tongue against his entrance was unlike any of his sex toys, and he worked slowly, savouring the experience of Perturabo’s whimpers more than being overly cautious. As he got impatient even as Russ worked fingers inside him, he ran his hands over the contours of Russ’ back and helped him work his trousers down and kick them off.

Russ moved up to kiss him, pressed hard between his legs, and reached for something off the edge of the bed. His hand was greasy with something organic rather than industrial when he pulled back and he slicked his cock with it.

‘Ready?’ he asked, lips against Perturabo’s cheek.

‘Yes--Oh, fuck, Leman,’ he gasped as Russ slowly pressed inside.

‘I pity the rest of the galaxy for never having felt this.’ Then he cut off any reply Perturabo might have had in favour of a helpless cry by pushing the rest of the way into him and setting a hard, fast pace.

If he’d been aware of rough bristles of Russ’ fur, the soft, swishy nature of his skin over muscles beneath like bedrock, it was nothing to how it felt to be desperately digging his fingers into his back now. True to Russ’ promise, each thrust had him bucking up into it, pleasure shooting through him from hitting just the right angle, from the throbbing inside him and the stretch of it, from the friction of Russ’ pounding into him.

Russ didn’t kiss him again--‘I want to hear you’--and sucked and licked at his neck instead. He held them close, pressing as much skin to skin as possible as he rolled his hips, and reached between them to work Perturabo into hardness again. He had been aware his physiology could go a long ways before being exhausted, but arousal had never been anything but a chore to get over with as soon as possible. Not like this, this he never wanted to stop. Not when Russ holding him and filling him made the emptiness inside him distant and abstract.

It was too much to hold onto, too much to last though each moment felt like an eternity. He bit back a sob as he spilled in Russ’ hand again, and Russ’ chest vibrated more with a purr than a growl as he finished.

Russ pulled out of him only when he could manoeuvre them to press together without any space between. ‘Thank you. For trusting me with that.’ Perturabo didn’t know how to answer that, couldn’t answer that. Fortunately, Russ returned to his signature bragging to add, ‘Aren’t I good?’

‘Fishing for compliments?’

‘That’s not the only thing I’m groping for.’

Perturabo could definitely punch him in the shoulder for that, which was for the best.


End file.
